So Katy played it cool. I left the gun behind the tree and sauntered out into the light from the lodge. The first cowboy jumped to his feet while the second started to struggle back into his boot.
‘Good evening,’ I said.
‘Evening, miss,’ said number one, doubtfully. ‘Anyone know you’re out on your own?’
‘I’m not on my own,’ I said. ‘Mr. Gerastan’s back there chatting to a couple of your campadres.’ They started to pull up trousers and tuck in shirttails. By then I had reached them, just as number two got his boot back on and stood up, preparing for the CO’s inspection. I turned and called back into the comparative darkness of the grounds, ‘Come on, Roger dear.’
They both looked past me as I stepped between them and relieved number one of his gun. A quick-draw holster is a very picturesque piece of dressing, but it’s a hell of a thing to be carrying a gun in if someone wants to take it off you. The heavy gun slid out of the holster as though it were greased, and I had it jammed into number one’s back before he was even aware that it was missing. He wasn’t very bright because he still wasn’t sure.
‘Careful, miss,’ he said. ‘It’s loaded.’
‘You’re kidding,’ I said—and he still wasn’t sure.
‘Honest, miss,’ he said. ‘And there ain’t no safety.’
Then, to cap it all, they both looked out into the darkness, hoping the Boss would appear and take this kinky houseguest off their hands. As number two still had his gun in its holster, it was him I hit, using the barrel of the six-shooter I was holding. And before number one could gulp twice I had it jammed into his back once more. The expression on his face, as he watched his companion fold up, was comical. Then he realised that he was in trouble and he started to do something stupid. There was a rifle propped up against the wall of the lodge and he made a grab for it. Using both thumbs I clicked back the hammer of the gun, hoping he wasn’t deaf. It sounded like the crack of doom and froze him rigid. There was a moment’s pause as he started to sweat.
‘Christ, lady, watch it!’ he said finally. ‘That thing’s got a hair trigger when it’s cocked.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘So help me, it’ll go off if you look at it cockeyed.’
‘Prove it to me,’ I said.
He finally got the message, strength five. ‘What you want?’
‘I want to go down to the airfield nice and quietly, with absolutely no fuss at all.’
‘Mr. Gerastan will skin me alive.’
‘He won’t get the chance if I don’t get to the airfield,’ I said. There was a moment’s pause, and I could feel through the gun between us some of the tension leave him. He’d obviously come to grips with the situation and decided to play it the only way he could.
‘You wanna drive or walk?’ he asked.
‘We’ll drive if you’ve got the transport.’
‘There’s a patrol jeep outside the gate.’
‘Fine, let’s go... What’s your name?’
‘Harold.’
‘You drive, Harry. I’ll sit behind you.’
‘Take the gun off cock first,’ he said. ‘If we hit a bump I’ll lose my head.’
‘I’ll do that when we’re on our way,’ I said. He’d grown the faintest bit too amenable for my taste. ‘Now come on; I’m in a hurry.’
’I’ll have to phone in and tell them I’m opening the gates,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Because if I don’t an alarm will go off as soon as I open them. And you don’t want that, do you, lady?’
I agreed that I didn’t want that at all, and I allowed him to make his call.
‘Harry here. I’m going outside for half an hour. Yea, Lee’s staying here at the lodge.’ Lee was the man on the floor, bleeding quietly from the head. Harry hung up the phone and would have turned on me if I had given him a chance, but I reminded him of the edge I was holding over him and he changed his mind and headed for the gates instead. He opened them, then closed them behind us.
The jeep was parked against the wall, just off the road. He climbed into the driver’s seat and I clambered over the side so that I was sitting behind him. Then I pressed the gun up against the base of his skull and delicately removed it off cock. It was as though I’d lifted a ten-ton weight off his back; he relaxed so much I thought he was going to fall out of the jeep.
‘What d’ya wanna do, lady? Drive right onto the airfield or creep around a bit?’
‘We’ll creep,’ I said. ‘Cut your lights before they can see them; coast in as far as it’s safe. I’ll take it from there.’
‘You’re quite a gal,’ he said companionably, as he started the engine. ‘How you get out of the house?’
‘I managed,’ I said. He started to shake his head admiringly until I stopped it with the barrel of the gun. ‘Just drive, Harry. You can hand around the bouquets later.’
‘I hate to say it, lady, but it’ll likely be at your funeral.’
‘We’ll share them, then,’ I said.
The jeep jerked into motion, nearly throwing me off the back seat.
’I told you to take the gun off cock,’ shouted Harry above the engine noise. ‘I’d be without my head by now.’
‘There’s still time,’ I said, rearranging myself. ‘What happens down at the airfield?’
‘What d’ya mean, what happens?’
‘How many men down there?’
‘There’s Bud and a couple of mechanics. Then there’s the crew for the DC-8, when the Boss needs them.’
‘Are they there now?’
‘Don’t think so. He hasn’t used the big one for a coupla weeks. He flies the crew in from LA when he needs ‘em.’
‘So it’s just Bud and the two mechanics, then?’
‘That’s about it, unless the chopper crews are down there, too.’
‘Are they usually?’
‘No, the choppers park up back of the house. The boys live up there most of the time.’
‘But they might be there?’
‘Lady, anybody and his mother might be there. I’m just giving you the facts as I know ‘em. How you handle them is your concern. But I can tell you right now, you’re wasting your time. The Boss’ll send some of the fellows after you. You ain’t got a chance.’
‘I got this far.’
‘That ain’t nothing,’ he said. ‘Once he sets someone like Jack Kelly on your tail you may as well curl up and die.’
‘Jack Kelly’s dead.’
‘No kidding? What happened to him?’
‘I killed him,’ I said dramatically.
‘You’re having me on. No, maybe you ain’t,’ he said, changing his mind.
‘That’s right. I ain’t,’ I said. ‘Now is there anything you haven’t told me that you feel I should know?’
‘Bud carries a heater; the mechs don’t. And he’s fast with his hands.’ You’re telling me, I thought.
Suddenly he cut the lights and the engine at the same time and we coasted to a silent stop.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, reminding him that I still carried the gun.
‘Nothing wrong, lady,’ he said. ‘We’ve arrived.’
There was a low hill, around which the road curved out of sight. The airfield buildings must lie just around the bend, I thought. I climbed out of the jeep, still keeping the gun on Harry.
‘What you going to do with me, lady?’ he asked equably.
‘Is there any rope in the jeep?’
‘There is, but I’d prefer it if you’d belt me. It’ll look better when I explain things. The Boss don’t like slipups.’ So I belted him, just above the ear. If he’d had time, I’m sure he would have thanked me. As it was, he curled up quietly in the front of the jeep.
Three men in the past ten minutes—you’re quite a girl, Katy Touchfeather. Bessie would be glowing with pride if she knew. I could have done with her company right then. If there had been anyone who could have subdued quick-handed Bud, it would have been Bes
sie. But Katy was on her own and Katy was going to have to do it herself. It wasn’t as difficult as it could have been, and I think it was about here that the little man in my head started to wave his warning flags. But he wasn’t waving hard enough yet for me to pay him much attention and, tightening a metaphorical notch in my belt, I started to creep up towards the only one of the airfield huts that showed a light. There was jazz music playing inside which effectively masked any noise I might have made, and a quick glance in the window showed me all the opposition in one place. Bud and the two mechanics were seated around a table playing poker. By the amount of money lying around, they must have been grossly overpaid. Moving back from the window, I looked out across the airfield. The DC-8 was parked where I had last seen it, with its two chicks still nestling beneath her wings. Marvin’s Piper was a hundred and fifty yards away, facing towards the runway. ‘Is your plane ready?’ Gerastan had said to him. ‘You’re to return to Los Angeles later.’
So there she was, all fuelled up and waiting to fly me out of here, just as soon as I could think of a way of getting aboard. I tried to remember what I knew about a Piper, but it had been a long time since I’d done any of my own flying and I never was much good at it. The ex-RAF instructor who had steered me through the course had been stuck on me, and he would have passed me out even if I’d never taken my feet off the ground. To him ‘solo’ meant that he wasn’t allowed to come up with me, so my whole course had been a dual effort with me paying more attention to seeing that his seat belt stayed fastened than to actually doing any flying. However, I had flown and, what is more important, I had flown a Piper.
I visualised the cockpit, wishing I’d paid more attention to Marvin that morning. Self-starter for both engines, warm-up time about three minutes, longer if possible. I weighed this against the three men inside the hut and decided that I’d chance the plane. If I cut the warm-up time, I should be able to start taxiing as soon as the engines fired. The plane was a hundred and fifty yards from the hut and it would take Bud and the others about twenty seconds to reach it from the moment they heard the first cough of the engines. Assuming the engines started the first time, I’d probably make it. If they didn’t, I was going to have to leave off long enough to shoot three men on the hoof, very likely while I was being shot at at the same time. Still, life’s a gamble at the best of times—and this wasn’t one of those.
So I left Bud and his companions to their poker and walked out to Marvin’s plane. The wheels were chocked and I removed these quietly. I checked that the wings weren’t tied down; I didn’t want to take off dragging two lumps of concrete with me. Then I climbed onto the wing, opened the hatch and slipped down into the driver’s seat. I closed the hatch and laid my gun down on the seat beside me. The array of needles, dials and levers in front of me was a little intimidating, but not as much as what I had left behind me. I counted to three; then I turned the key in the ignition and watched the needles jump. The little man in my head was waving his flags madly, and still I didn’t take any notice of him. I checked the fuel tanks: full. Fingers crossed, hand on throttle levers and eyes down for a full house. I threw the starter and both engines caught immediately without the faintest trace of a cough. Without even bothering to glance back, I fed them as much juice as I could without choking them to death and started to taxi out towards the runway. I remembered that the apron met the runway about halfway along its length; since it was long enough to take a DC-8, there should have been enough room in front of me to take off twice.
As I gathered speed into the darkness, I glanced back towards the huts. I could see three figures running towards me, but they didn’t stand a chance. I checked the speed, then pulled the wheel back into my stomach. I bounced once, and then I was clear.
I couldn’t remember how high the hills were at the end of the runway, so I aimed for as much height as possible. At one thousand feet I levelled off and took the first breath I could remember all evening. I looked down at the instruments: oil pressure OK, fuel gauges OK, engine temperature OK. And finally my little man with the flags got through to me. The engine temperature was normal for running, but I’d only started the bloody things two minutes ago. They couldn’t have warmed up that quickly, not unless they had already been run up. Oh sister, I thought, you’re up here in this aeroplane because that’s just where you’re supposed to be. The adrenalin had been pumping so hard for the past half an hour that I hadn’t bothered to think how ridiculously easy the whole thing had been. I’d been so proud of myself for getting out of the lion’s den that I hadn’t been able to see that it was only because the key had been left in the door. And, if someone back there wanted Katy up in this aeroplane, then Katy wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else.
A nice little accident halfway back to Los Angeles. Poor Katy Touchfeather. She wanted to fly back on her own. We tried to get her to wait, but she was a bit tight, and you know how things are...
Halfway back to Los Angeles was about an hour’s flying time, but I didn’t stay off the ground for more than ten minutes. As soon as the lights of the house and the airfield had faded, I switched on the spotlight below the fuselage and started to lose some height. At two hundred feet by the altimeter I eased back a little, my hands starting to sweat. Outside, the ground hurtled by beneath me at a ridiculous speed, and the spotlight seemed to find an uncommon amount of boulders and stunted trees. Still, I wasn’t about to fly around looking for a bowling green to put down on. It was going to have to be one of those sink-or-swim affairs. And I came very near to sinking. I went lower and started to cut the speed, looking for a stall, but not before I was near enough to the ground to cope with it. Stall I eventually did while I was still fifteen feet up. I had a moment of warning during which I balled myself up as tight as I could with my head tucked well under my arms. I just had the presence of mind to switch off the ignition before all hell broke loose. Twenty minutes later I came round and started to unwrap myself from the wreckage.
SEVENTEEN
The dawn comes up early in those parts, but it comes up cold as well. The blazing Piper had kept me warm for an hour, but that was long gone; it had even stopped smouldering as the desert dew, rising from God knows where, effectively dampened the whole thing down. I was sitting on a small rock fifty yards away from the burned-out wreckage, practically freezing to death.
Once I had detached myself from the crash-landed plane, which had ended up on its nose, I had counted my arms and legs. Then I had groped around until I found the gun I had left on the seat beside me. After that, I had opened up the fuel cocks and thrown a match into a pool of gasoline. It went up like a bomb and I nearly got killed all over again. The light from this fire would be visible for miles in the desert, and if anyone was watching from Santhoma, I wanted to let them know that everything was proceeding according to plan. I had a long way to go and I didn’t want anyone to come looking for me too quickly.
Ten minutes later, when the main part of the fire had died down, I had started walking. And fifteen minutes after that I had realised that walking in the middle of the desert at night, with nothing to guide you, was strictly for the birds and, unless I wanted to get lost ten times over, I was going to have to wait until daylight. So I had crept back to the wreckage, which was still smouldering, and sat down to wait for sunup. I was banking on someone from Santhoma coming along before the general ‘aircraft missing’ call went out. They would want to make sure everything was kosher before they made their calls to the state officials. The actual discovery would be made by someone else, someone official and aboveboard.
I’d had plenty of time for thinking during the night. It hadn’t kept me warm, but it had served a purpose of sorts. Why should Gerastan want to know about the people I worked for? He knew enough about them already. He knew of Bertelli and Walter, and he knew about me. I suppose I could have told him a few things about Mr. Blaser, but I don’t think he would even have been interested. What he wanted was to get me out of the way without upsetting Bill more
than necessary. He needed Bill too much. And I had given him exactly what he wanted. Well, not quite exactly because I wasn’t dead. But he didn’t know that.
I’d begun to see what Bill had meant when he said he was a very bright man. He had plotted my every move for me, even to dropping the hint at dinner that Marvin’s plane would be fuelled up for takeoff. Fuelled up, yes, but warmed up, no. If it hadn’t been warmed up, it might not have started the first time. Bud would have had to come running, and I might not have got away. Probably Bud was the only person on the Santhoma staff who knew what the plan was. I doubt that Gerastan would have told the guards. He couldn’t have relied on their acting capabilities to make it look real. Instead, he had relied on my inventiveness to find my own way out, and if I killed a couple of the guards on the way out, instead of hitting them on the head, then so what. And Bill, of course, would be convinced, especially after the way I had left him.
‘I’m sorry about Katherine,’ Gerastan would say. ‘But she brought it upon herself. I had nothing to do with it. If she couldn’t fly, she shouldn’t have stolen an aeroplane.’
But Mr. Roger bloody Gerastan was going to be in for some nasty shocks. I was angry now, and we Touchfeathers get awfully mean when we’re angry. I was also desperately cold and hungry, and if I hadn’t been so furious, I would have been frightened, too. My watch had broken in the crash, so I had no idea of the time except a vague notion that the sun came up in these parts about five a.m. That made it about five-fifteen when I started back towards Santhoma for the second time. Twenty minutes later I bit the dust as a helicopter flew low overhead, searching for the wreckage. They would find it and, after sifting through the ashes, would report back that Katy had gone missing. All hell would then break loose and Gerastan would call out full-scale search parties. But they would expect me to be heading for the nearest point of civilisation, anywhere, in fact, other than back to the lion’s den. And the reason I was going in that direction was not from any sense of bravado, but purely because I felt that it held the best chance of my staying alive.
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